


None So Blind

by goldarrow



Series: Primeval-Avengers crossover [1]
Category: Primeval, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-09-26 07:43:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20386150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldarrow/pseuds/goldarrow
Summary: A few of the Avengers visit the ARC. High-jinks and hotness ensue.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Crossover: Primeval/Avengers (Marvel Avengers Movie Universe)
> 
> Lyle and Finn belong to fredbassett, who kindly lends them out.
> 
> Disclaimer: Anyone and anything recognisable as from Primeval belongs to Impossible Pictures. And the Avengers belong to Marvel. I mean no harm, I make no profit except satisfaction. I promise to return everyone in pristine condition once I’m done with them.
> 
> A/N: All I know about the Avengers is from the movies. . . :), and I've played with timelines so that this takes place about a month after the first Avengers movie, before Iron Man 3 and The Winter Soldier, and two months after S1 of Primeval.

None So Blind

Chapter 1

Stephen wandered back into the ARC’s huge atrium after taking a long lunch break to visit the badly injured Captain Ryan in the rehab centre. The one good thing about that situation was that the soldier was steadily improving after his run-in with a future predator in the Permian two months ago - even though it was going to take quite a bit more time for him to be back to full health and active duty.

The other good thing to come out of the last couple of weeks was that Stephen was finally beginning to reach a state of comfort with Cutter, after Helen’s revelation of their affair when Stephen was her student put what could possibly be referred to, extremely charitably, as a _crimp_ in their friendship.

Neither Stephen nor Cutter was particularly articulate when the subject at hand was feelings, but they'd managed to stumble through a few conversations that had cleared the air considerably. Not that those conversations had been any fun. Stephen shuddered internally at the memory of some of the acrimonious statements that had been uttered in the heat of various moments, the verbal equivalents of Blade’s most lethal knife thrusts. Luckily, ten years of friendship and Stephen’s openness about everything else had finally managed to trump the fact that he’d kept that one secret. Both men would still go a little silent when a reminder inadvertently hit home, but the basic trust between them had been mostly rebuilt.

Stephen made his way across the room to the ADD and stared up at Lester's office. Through the glass wall he could see three strangers, and they weren’t just the ARC's average run-of-the-mill visitors, either. He was truly surprised that Connor wasn't having conniption fits at the sight of two of them. Glancing over at the young man sitting at the ADD, he amended his thought. Connor mightn't be having obvious conniption fits, but he _was_ quietly freaking. Captain Becker stood behind him losing his fight with the massive grin he was trying to hold in. Connor met Stephen's eyes with wide-eyed awe showing on his face. After all, it wasn't every day that Tony Stark and Bruce Banner came walking through one’s door.

Stephen couldn't help but smile at the surprisingly restrained enthusiasm Connor was displaying. Then he took a closer look at the three men in Lester's office and proceeded to have a bit of a quiet freak himself. Not many people would be interested in the man standing, impressive arms crossed over his chest, behind the unarmoured Iron Man and the milder side of the Hulk, but with Stephen's background in competitive shooting he was one of them. After the Battle of New York last month, he'd made a special effort to find out as much as he could about the sniper who'd spent most of that incredible fight alone on the rooftops, taking out enemy after enemy literally on the fly - with a sodding bow and arrow.

_Hawkeye_.

The archer’s real name hadn't been disseminated, but Stephen would know that face anywhere. He stopped beside Connor and watched for a moment. Hawkeye was eying the other men with a faint hint of enjoyment quirking his lips as Banner kept shaking his head and Lester kept sneering and Stark kept talking.

“What's going on?” Stephen asked.

Connor shrugged slightly, his gaze returning to the billionaire who was currently facing down their boss. “Somehow, Stark found out about the anomalies, showed up without an appointment, and now he's agitating to be allowed in on our research.”

Stephen choked. “Bloody Norah! How did he find out, and how did he get in here? Shouldn’t security have stopped him?”

Connor gave him a look of complete and utter disbelief. “You expect anyone to be able to keep Iron Man out of anywhere he really wants to go?”

“Ah. Point taken,” Stephen replied absently, eyes on the archer. “I wonder who's going to win the argument?”

Connor's disbelieving expression melted into a knowing expression. “Who do you think?” he asked, and then grinned widely. “You haven’t been staring at Stark anyway.”

Stephen fought a blush. “I'm looking at all of them,” he protested.

“Sure.” Connor nodded solemnly. “I believe you.”

Stephen took his eyes from the archer in Lester's office to glare at him and the young man laughed back, saying, “You’ve already forgotten the transports you were in when we saw Hawkeye's shooting on the news reports? C’mon Stephen, ‘_fanboy_’ doesn't even begin to describe it.”

“Nice to know I'm appreciated for more than just my handsome face.” The voice behind them sounded amused, and Stephen wanted to crawl under the ADD and hide. How the fuck had the man got from Lester's office down to the atrium so quickly? And without making a bloody sound?

Taking a deep breath, Stephen willed himself not to hyperventilate as he turned around and took refuge in the conventions. “Hawkeye, pleased to meet you. I'm Stephen Hart, this is Connor Temple, and I'm sure you already know Captain Becker.”

Hawkeye held out his hand for Stephen to shake. “Clint Barton.” Grinning, the sniper cocked his head at the now less strident tones emanating from on high as the altercation started to wind down in Lester's office. “Looks like we're going to get at least the Grand Tour. Your boss has a mouth on him like a shark with indigestion, but I'll back Stark in a contest of the stubborns any day.”

Connor laughed with uninhibited delight, and Stephen couldn't help but smile. Catching the tag-end of an incandescent glare from Lester, he attempted to school his expression, with little success, as the three remaining men walked - or stalked in Lester's case - down the ramp to the atrium. Banner seemed a little flustered, Stark had an expression of fortunately restrained triumph on his face, and Lester looked like a thundercloud had taken up residence inside him.

“According to the Home Office,” Lester said, infusing the last two words with a wealth of disgust, “we are to show Drs Banner and Stark everything they want to see. It seems,” he added with a drawl just short of insulting, “that they actually have sufficient clearance, and the Minister believes they can somehow assist us. Captain Becker, if you would be so good, these gentlemen require an escort to shepherd them on their tour of our Anomaly Research Centre. Mr Hart, the responsibility for answering any and all of their queries is entirely yours.” After searing the lot of them with one more comprehensively disdainful glare, Lester turned and headed back to his office, coming as close to stomping as Stephen had ever seen.

Oh, crap. There was no sodding way that Stephen was going to be able to field the type of questions that would be likely to come from a couple of geniuses. He swallowed hard and looked at them, feeling a bit like a sparrow facing a cobra. Stark was wide-eyed and practically vibrating with impatience, and Stephen had the sudden irreverent notion that he was seeing what Connor would be like in twenty years time. The thought calmed him a little and when he added in the sympathetic look from Banner and the amused quirk of the lips from Barton, he came to the slightly evil conclusion that, considering how Cutter managed to successfully rein in Connor - at least most of the time - all he needed to do was track down the professor and dump the visitors on him. Any prolonged interaction between the Scotsman and Stark would be likely to either change the world, or end it.

Taking a deep breath, Stephen girded himself for the trial to come. “Gentlemen,” he said as firmly as he could, “if you'll follow me, I'll take you to the labs.”

He ushered them through the large double doors into the ARC proper, catching a glimpse of Connor's slightly disappointed expression out of the corner of his eye. As far as Stephen was concerned, Connor could have had this duty with his blessing. Then he took another look at Hawkeye, or Clint Barton as he now knew him to be, and re-evaluated the situation. This would most likely be the only chance he would ever get to connect with the man who just might be the best sharpshooter ever born.

Taking the long way as he worked out how to introduce the visitors to Cutter, he moved quickly through the main corridors, pointing out various labs as they passed them. Stark looked as if he was wanting to stop a few times, but then the billionaire restrained himself. He seemed to know that they weren't quite at the most interesting part.

Having surprised himself by surviving the tour down to Cutter's main lab, Stephen started breathing easier. The few questions asked by the visitors had been rather basic ones about the frequency and locations of the anomalies, what eras they had opened to thus far, and what types of creatures tended to come through them most often. Those Stephen could answer without a problem. A quick glance at Banner's face and the tracker knew that he had the physicist to thank for that. Containing Tony Stark's almost manic enthusiasm seemed to be something Banner had had a lot of practise with. Stephen made a mental note to find an unobtrusive way to show him his appreciation later.

On the other hand, the one person Stephen was truly interested in talking to had stayed in the background the entire time. Barton was doing the one thing that his reputation said he did best: he was watching. It would have made Stephen nervous if he hadn't felt such a pull of attraction to the man. And based on the glimpses he'd caught of the occasional direction of Barton’s gaze, the archer might actually be returning the interest. Even knowing there couldn't be anything lasting between them didn't change a thing. Stephen would totally be up for a one-night stand with Agent Clint Barton, code name Hawkeye.

Then he fought the blush that thought caused. Way to get ahead of yourself, he mentally self-castigated. He didn’t even know if Barton was even remotely interested in men. A few glances that looked as if they might possibly have been aimed at his arse, and he already had the two of them in bed. Unfortunately, the mental picture evoked by that thought actually made him lose the battle with his circulatory system, and he reddened a bit as they passed through the door. Stephen grimaced at the warmth he could feel on his skin, and Barton chuckled as he brushed just a little too close to Stephen to be accidental as he passed. Damn. Trust someone called ‘Hawkeye’ to have read his face. Well, maybe there _was_ a chance he wouldn't be going home alone tonight.

Forcing his mind back to the present, Stephen called out to Cutter, hoping the professor wasn't going to get tangled up when he extricated himself from the cat's cradle that was taking up the middle of the room.

“What is it, Stephen? I didn't hear the ADD go off.” Cutter's tousled head rose from the middle of the matrix. “Oh, we have visitors. Do they have clearance for this laboratory?”

Banner chuckled and Stark bridled for a second, but Banner's elbow in his ribs made him subside.

Stephen traded an amused glance with Barton. “Yes, Cutter, they have clearance. Professor Nick Cutter, these are Bruce Banner, Clint Barton, and Tony Stark.” As Cutter's eyes widened almost comically, Stephen added with amusement, “Yes, three of the Avengers. They're here to consult on the scientific side of the anomalies. I think you’ll agree we could use the help.”

Cutter twisted and turned as he disentangled himself from the matrix, then bustled forward, hand held out to shake. “Indeed we could. Thank you, gentlemen. Your assistance will be appreciated.”

It took all of about five seconds for two of the three visitors to be bent over at Cutter's desk, heads together as they examined the papers scattered across its surface, Cutter and Stark talking nineteen to the dozen with much hand waving, and Banner standing back watching them both carefully.

Which left Stephen precisely where he wanted to be - basically alone with Hawkeye.

\- - - - - - - - - -


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The anomaly matrix has an odd effect.

Chapter 2

“So, what exactly does this thing do?” Barton asked curiously, walking over to Cutter's anomaly matrix and studying it from various angles with a sniper's eye for detail.

Stephen moved as casually as he could to stand beside Barton, his skin roughening at the man's proximity. He felt almost as if there was an electrical connection between them; whatever it was, it was making him twitchy. He did his best to gather his scattered thoughts before he thoroughly embarrassed himself - again.

“Cutter and Dr Sarah Page have correlated all the anomalies we know about for sure, along with any sightings of oddities and anything that seems strange throughout recorded history that might be a result of an anomaly incursion, and mapped them onto this matrix. He thinks there's a pattern to the anomalies, and if he can work it out, he can start to predict when and where they'll open. Could save a lot of lives.”

"That sounds like a good thing." Barton's voice was slightly absent as his eyes followed the various twists and turns of the wires making up the matrix.

Stephen started to get a little concerned as Barton shook his head and rubbed his eyes before turning back to the matrix as if his gaze was magnetically drawn to it.

"Are you okay?" Reaching out to touch Barton's shoulder, Stephen spoke softly enough that the other men couldn't hear on the other side of the room.

Barton turned to him, face blank, and then his eyes rolled up in his head and he dropped as if he'd been hit with an entire wall's worth of bricks. The thump of his body hitting the ground made Stephen gasp and the other three men turn to stare at them in shock.

"Fucking hell," Stephen whispered, and grabbed his mobile to speed-dial Ditzy as he dropped to his knees beside Hawkeye. He heard the ringing from right outside the door as Cutter, Stark, and Banner gathered around, all talking at once.

"Ditzy! Barton's collapsed." He didn't even have the chance to get any more words out before the medic arrived on the run.

"What happened?" Ditzy's voice held its usual calm-in-a-crisis tone, cutting through the babble like one of Blade's knives. "One at a time," he added. "Everyone else shut the fuck up."

The entire group turned as one to stare at Stephen. He took a deep breath in an attempt to dissipate some of the adrenalin that had spiked when Barton hit the floor. Seeing Ditzy's steady eyes and hands moving over Barton's limp form, checking for injuries as he waited for the answer, helped Stephen regain control.

"I honestly don't know," Stephen replied, feeling rather helpless. "We were talking, he was looking at the matrix, and he just went - phut."

"Phut?" Stark interjected. "Is that some sort of British technical term?"

Ditzy grinned lightly at the man. "Nope. Not technical at all. It's just like it sounds." He sat back on his heels and eyed Banner and Stark. "Does he have a history of fainting? Any epilepsy? Head injuries?"

Banner and Stark looked at each other, and Stark burst out laughing. "Head injuries are a constant with him. Most recent was just before the Battle. His head met a metal railing at a pretty fast clip. Propelled by Black Widow's fist."

Ditzy sighed and rubbed his eyes, while Stephen and Cutter traded confused looks and Banner simply looked long-suffering.

"Is this the first time he's fainted?" Ditzy remained in triage mode, ignoring the attempt at levity.

With an admonitory look at Stark, Banner took over. "Yes, it is. He's not subject to fainting spells or epileptic fits. Even after the Battle, he didn't show any signs of traumatic brain injury. And that was a month ago."

Ditzy grunted as Stephen hovered, more worried than he was willing to show. Not just for Barton himself, but for the possibilities that might be dashed. He hadn't had much luck with his love life since joining the anomaly project. Constant call outs and a complete inability to schedule anything with a guarantee of not having to cry off was playing havoc with what little social life he’d managed even before becoming involved with the ARC. And to have the first attractive man he'd actually had a shot at getting together with in a long time pass out half an hour after meeting him was about to give him a complex.

Ditzy finished his examination, and had just started to tell them to carefully lift the archer onto the stretcher that the newly arrived medical team had placed beside him, when the man in question opened slightly foggy multicoloured eyes and sat up.

"What the hell just happened?" he asked, rubbing his temples as Ditzy reached out to support him.

"You tell us," Stark broke in. "We were all talking in a perfectly normal manner when you decided to make like you were bailing out and hit the dirt."

"Huh," Barton replied, not particularly intelligently, staring at him with a vaguely befuddled expression that Stephen reckoned was fairly normal for his dealings with the billionaire-genius-playboy-philanthropist.

"Has this happened before?" Ditzy asked before Stark could start up again.

Barton shook his head, carefully. "No. I was just looking at that - whatever - and everything went black."

Stephen and Ditzy traded confused looks.

"The anomaly matrix?" Stephen asked.

"Yeah. That thing." Barton waved at the convoluted sweeps of wiring and their connecting labels.

Stephen shivered. That was odd. No, more than odd. He reckoned it was time for a little confession of his own. "Um, guys," he said reluctantly.

Everyone turned to stare at him, but Cutter seemed to be the only one who actually knew something was up. "What is it, Stephen?"

"I was here yesterday, and I was looking at the matrix." Stephen took a deep breath. "I remember I was just about where Barton was standing, and I started getting really dizzy."

Everyone turned to stare at the anomaly matrix.

"Where?" Cutter asked, moving around the matrix. "Here?"

Stephen shook his head. "A little farther around. More. More. Right there."

Cutter stopped and stared into the matrix. "I'm not feeling anything. Are you sure, Stephen?"

Snorting in disgust, Stephen stood and walked over to join him. "I'm not an idiot, and not in the habit of making things up," he said shortly, and caught a glimpse of Banner elbowing Stark again and the genius snapping his mouth closed on whatever he’d been about to blurt out.

Stopping beside Cutter, who was muttering an apology, he gently moved the professor aside and stood in his place. He let his gaze unfocus a little, just enough to be able to see the entire matrix. Then he narrowed his eyes and started tracing the twists and curves, sharpening his gaze at each joint. Within about twenty seconds, he could feel the world starting to recede, and he slammed his eyes shut and stepped back, retching slightly.

"Right there," he said with difficulty, stomach still roiling. He described what he'd done, and Barton nodded.

"That's pretty much what I did," the archer agreed, looking much more alert.

Cutter stepped up and with a glance at Stephen, tried the same thing. "Nothing," he said firmly.

Stark and Banner, then Ditzy and Becker followed.

“Okay,” Banner said, going into what Stephen reckoned was his equivalent of Cutter’s ‘scientific mode’. “Barton and Hart are affected but the rest of us are not. What's different about them?”

Everyone stared around. Everyone looked like they were about to start shrugging. Then Cutter’s eyes lit up.

“Snipers,” he stated with surety. “They're both long-range sharpshooters. Maybe it has something to do with that.”

Stephen wanted to sink through the floor at the idea that he was being put anywhere near ‘Hawkeye’ in terms of ability, then rethought his reaction when he noticed that the information actually seemed to have heightened Barton's interest in him.

“Could be,” Stephen said quietly. “I was going through my usual sighting-in routine.”

Barton nodded. “Me too. Wide view first, then narrowing in to complete focus on the target. Same for you?”

Stephen nodded.

“How the hell do we test that?” Stark exclaimed, throwing his hands up. “Do you guys just happen to have a few more sharpshooters hanging around like groupies at a rock concert?”

Stephen started to choke, but Ditzy simply laughed. “We’re Special Forces, Stark. Of course we have a ‘few more’ sharpshooters.”

Becker nodded and pulled out his mobile. “Finn? We need you in Cutter’s lab. . . Yes, right now. . . Too bad. If you’re still on site, you’re still on duty.” He grinned as he disconnected and spoke to Cutter. “Three minutes. He needs to check back in.”

The professor chuckled. “Caught him on his way out the door?”

“Got it in one.” Becker stepped back and went into what Stephen always privately referred to as his ‘watchdog’ mode.

Barton gathered himself and stood, Ditzy hovering closely to make sure he stayed vertical. “I’m fine, doc,” the archer said firmly, then waved at the anomaly matrix. “But I’m not intending to look at that thing again. Gives me brain farts,” he added quietly in a grumbling tone, and Stephen almost choked again.

“Graphic but accurate description,” he whispered.

Barton started and stared at him, muttering, “You have good ears.” 

They both moved out of the way when Finn arrived at the trot, looking a bit sulky but still professional. Cutter, for once, took the lead in diplomacy.

“Thanks for giving up some personal time, lad,” he said. “We have need of your sharpshooter’s eyes.”

Finn looked completely confused as he stared at Becker and Stephen, then with wide eyes at Barton. “Um, sir, you have sharpshooters here already.”

“And we need another, if you don’t mind,” Banner said quietly. He gestured at the place where Stephen and Barton had been standing when they were affected. “We need you to stand right here, then go into - what did you call it, Hart, your sighting-in routine?”

Stephen nodded. “Yes.” He turned to Finn. “I don’t know if you do the same process, but I do a general wide-view, then narrow in my focus to one area.”

“Pretty much,” Finn agreed. “Where do you need me to focus in?”

“Nowhere in particular,” Stephen replied. “Go for the joints, one after the other, starting anywhere.”

Finn stepped to the position Banner was indicating. “What’s going to happen?” he asked. “Are my eyes supposed to cross or something?” When no one responded, he shrugged. “Okay. That’s part of the test, huh?”

Stephen watched him closely. The soldier’s eyes went from objectively distant to intent, then moved slowly over the various twists and turns of the matrix. Stephen was beginning to think that nothing was going to happen when he felt a touch on his shoulder and caught a glimpse out of the corner of his vision of Barton’s eyes narrowing. He focussed back onto Finn just in time to step forward with Barton to catch the young soldier as he went boneless.

“Well, I’ll be bloody well stuffed and mounted,” Cutter gasped, staring.

The two men half carried, half dragged Finn over to the side of the room, where Ditzy checked him over as he came to.

“Same thing,” the medic announced. “Simple faint, no apparent after-effects. Pulse, respiration, all fine.”

“What the shit could be causing that?” Stark demanded. “We don’t see anything, nothing, nada, zip, zilch.” He sounded offended.

Banner frowned, tapping his chin. “Tony, do you have your travelling suit?”

Stark turned to stare at him, an expression of utter offense on his face. “Of course. The suit is me. I don’t go anywhere without the suit.”

Everyone else in the room looked a trifle befuddled, but Banner simply shook his head. “Perhaps JARVIS could help?”

“Huh. Good idea.” Stark grinned teasingly. “Brace yourselves.”

He pressed a button on what Stephen had taken for a fancy watchband, and to the accompaniment of yells, the tinkle of broken glass, and the sound of people hitting the floor at speed outside, a red and gold blur shot into the room. It resolved itself into a bullet-shaped metallic case that opened out like a flower in sunlight and attached itself to Stark’s body piece by piece. Along with the rest of the ARC personnel, Stephen gaped in wonder as he watched the Iron Man suit cover Stark, who was grinning proudly.

“Bloody hell,” he whispered.

Barton, standing beside him, chuckled. “You get used to it,” he replied softly. “Stark loves to show off, but he really is a genius.”

“JARVIS, scan the matrix in front of me.” Stark’s voice filled the room, sounding rather metallic through the suit’s speakers.

“Scanning. Please circle the matrix, sir.”

The British accent surprised them again. Stephen looked at Barton, who shrugged.

“His childhood butler,” the archer explained.

“Ah,” Stephen replied, not really any wiser, but no one had the time to discuss the matter further as James Lester strode into the room in more of an open fury than Stephen had ever seen.

“Stop. this. immediately.” Lester’s tone was cold enough to freeze the lava in a volcanic flow.

\- - - - - - - - - -


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iron Man's high-jinks have an effect

Chapter 3

Everyone stiffened, doing brilliant impressions of waxworks in instant obedience. Even Stark turned to look at him.

“My office window is shattered, my assistant is suffering from glass cuts, and Connor Temple has sprained his wrist getting out of the way of that - thing.” Lester stalked up to Iron Man, quite obviously not impressed at all. “Mr Stark. I suggest you provide me with an explanation that will not get you summarily tossed out of this building with extreme prejudice and a guarantee that you will never be allowed to darken my doors again.”

The mask slid upwards to bare Stark’s face, which to Stephen’s eyes actually looked a little flushed.

“Um, sorry,” the billionaire mumbled, eyes wide. “I thought the angle was right to have it come through your door. I didn’t mean to hurt anyone, honest. JARVIS, back me up, here.”

The AI’s tone was even more apologetic than Stark’s. “My deepest apologies, Sir James. When sir hit the ‘call’ button, I thought there was an emergency. I took the fastest, most direct route to him. I deeply regret having caused injuries.”

Lester stared, face tight, then sighed and pinched his nose. “Stark, I will expect a personal apology from you to each of the injured personnel. I will also expect you to pay for all of the damage so that my budget doesn’t suffer. In addition, you will compensate my injured people for the time they are off duty, and you will cover the overtime costs for those who will be required to take over for them whilst they heal.”

Stark nodded. “And I’ll add in a research grant for this thing,” he said eagerly, waving at the anomaly matrix. “Whatever I need to do. I really am sorry,” he added, looking a little ashamed. “I kind of show off, in case anyone hasn’t noticed.”

JARVIS spoke up, startling everyone except Stark. “Construction personnel with sufficient security clearance have been contacted and payment has been arranged, sir. They will arrive within the hour to repair Sir James’ office. Calculations of estimated overtime and medical leave pay have been made. I will await Sir James’ convenience for confirmation of those amounts and their payment arrangements. Stark Industries legal department has been given the parameters for a generic top-level-security grant with no details supplied. Papers should be completed and ready to sign by tomorrow.”

Lester stared at the suit, for the first time in Stephen’s experience looking a trifle stunned. “Thank you,” he said faintly, then his tone firmed. “We’ll discuss the details when you’re finished in here.” With one last scathing look around, he spun on his heel and walked out.

“Wow,” Stephen whispered. “Is it always like this around Iron Man?”

Both Barton and Banner snorted. “Pretty much,” Barton replied cheerfully. “Stark is a one-man entertainment complex.” He grinned at Stephen. “Keeps us on our toes.”

“I can imagine.” Stephen turned to look at the others, who were still standing like statues. “Okay, next step?” he asked, and Cutter jumped.

“Oh, well, I suppose we let JARVIS complete his scan,” the professor said firmly. “If you would?”

And just like that, they were back to work. Stephen watched as Becker pulled out his mobile to check on Lorraine and Connor, and the look of relief on the soldier’s face was enough to make him relax.

“Minor cuts and a slight sprain, all treated _in situ_,” the captain told them. “Lorraine would love to have a word with Stark when he gets free, though.”

Stark turned to look at them and winced at the expressions that Stephen could see on their faces, ranging from restrained glee - Finn - to anticipation - Cutter. “I’m going to take a wild guess and say that won’t be very pleasant,” he said. “Yes, JARVIS, I’ll let you complete your scan in a second.”

Cutter chuckled. “You certainly won’t like it, Mr Stark, but I think you will find it instructive.”

Stark winced again, and Stephen laughed at the obvious trepidation.

“Right. Okay. I’ll take my lumps.” With a sigh, Stark turned back to the matrix and dropped his faceplate again. “Let’s finish this.”

Within a few minutes, Stark had completed his scan and was muttering with JARVIS and Banner about angles and connectivity and time compressions and magnetic energy dilations and a few other words that Stephen had never even heard before. He glanced at Barton, who grinned back at him and shrugged.

“I hardly ever have the faintest idea what Stark is talking about,” the archer said cheerfully. “Ballistics is the only subject I can keep up with him on, so don’t let it bother you. Tony Stark and JARVIS together are a force of nature. I learned a while back to just let them go. And to stay out of their way as much as possible.”

Cutter wandered over to them. “I think Lorraine and Connor found that out as well - the hard way.” He shook his head. “I also think that as long as you’re feeling well, Mr Barton, you gentlemen might as well head out. Stark, JARVIS, and Banner look as if they’re settling in for the night, and I’ll stick with them to at least attempt to keep Stark under control. Get some rest, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Becker nodded, and Ditzy and Finn headed out the door. “I’ll keep watch,” the captain said, “Stephen, we’ll need you and Barton to be rested tomorrow.”

Stephen turned to the archer, feeling a little tentative, but knowing he would have only this one chance. Taking a deep breath, he asked, “Do you have someplace to stay?”

Barton shook his head with a slight grin. “We came straight from the airport,” he replied. “Never even took our bags off the plane.”

“I can take you to a hotel,” Stephen said, “or, if you’d like, you can stay at my place.”

Barton’s grin widened. “I’ll take the second option,” he said cheerfully, then turned to Stark and raised his voice. “Stark, my bag. Deliver to - what’s the address?” he asked Stephen.

Slightly nonplussed, Stephen told him, and JARVIS chimed in without having it repeated. “Your bag will arrive at the flat within the hour, Agent Barton. Dr Banner, your bag and Mr Stark’s will be sent here.”

“Thanks, JARVIS,” Banner said absently, as if the AI’s multitasking were totally normal.

Stephen shook his head, still feeling a bit bemused.

Barton clasped his shoulder. “You do get used to it,” he confided. “I found out it’s best to just go with the flow.”

“Okay,” Stephen said, flapping his hands. “Whatever works.” He turned to the door, Barton moving up beside him. “Let’s check on Connor. If I know him, he hasn’t let a sprained wrist take him away from his Anomaly Detection Device.”

The two men grinned at each other, totally in accord regarding the vagaries of working with their respective geniuses. Stephen led the way out of the lab and back to the atrium, aware that the man beside him could probably find his own way without hesitation, even though they were taking the direct path to the atrium this time, a completely different route from their prior tour. Once they arrived, he grinned at the sight before them. Connor, left wrist bandaged, was muttering to himself as he typed one-handed at the main keyboard, Abby leaning over his shoulder and calling out the positions of the red lights that were blinking on and off in various places on the multiple screens as he made his program adjustments.

“Damn, he’s Stark junior,” Barton said in an awed tone as they watched the lights turning green one by one.

“I thought so, too, a little while ago,” Stephen said quietly. “It would be great if Connor could have a few minutes with Stark before you guys leave. It would make his week.”

“Not a problem,” Barton responded. “From what I heard in your boss’s office, Stark really, really wants to talk to him, too. He’d give his eyeteeth to get his hands on this stuff.”

Stephen turned to stare at him, struck by a feeling of protectiveness. “He’d better not try to take it away. We won’t stand for him hurting Conn.”

Barton looked at the young man working diligently. “He won’t. Stark’s a bit oblivious sometimes - his people skills are pretty lacking - but he does have a soft spot for kindred spirits.”

“Good.” Stephen turned, giving a quick glance up at the open spot that used to be Lester’s windowed office. “Ouch. That’s really bad.”

“Not the worst mess Stark’s ever left behind,” Barton shrugged. “I’m starving. You have any Chinese places that deliver?”

“There’s a takeout two blocks from my flat. I have a menu in the truck. We can order on the way and it’ll be ready to pick up by the time we get there.”

“Convenient.”

“Very.”

The two men grinned at each other and headed out the door.

\- - - - - - - - - -


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sexy times. Hard X on this one.

Chapter 4

Barton leaned back and stretched, his shirt riding up and giving Stephen an excellent look at his trim sides and rock-hard abs.

“I’m always amused at the differences in food in different places,” the archer said, leaning forward again to stack the cartons neatly. “In the States, we’d be having egg drop soup and moo goo gai pan. Here, it’s chicken and sweetcorn soup, and sweet and sour chicken.”

Stephen laughed. “You should check out the Chinese food in Brazil,” he replied, taking the cartons to dump in the bin.

Snorting, Barton agreed. “I have, and it was definitely an interesting experience.” He stood and stretched again. “Even the Mexican food is different between Texas, New Mexico and Arizona. And they’re next to each other!”

The warmth of Barton’s body close behind him made Stephen lean back a little, just enough to feel the hardness developing in exactly the right place. The solid arms wrapped around him and Barton’s soft breath tickled his ear.

“I really want to have some fun,” Barton whispered. “But I also really need a shower or I don’t think you’ll enjoy me much.”

Biting back what felt perilously close to a giggle, Stephen turned in the enveloping arms and gave Barton his best seductive look. When the archer’s pupils dilated, Stephen leaned forward and kissed him, lips firm but gentle, tongue just teasing. After a moment, he pulled back and grinned as Barton’s mouth followed him automatically, searching for more.

“I think I’m going to enjoy this,” Barton stated, his voice a little rough. “Now, shower?”

“I’ll get you something to wear,” Stephen said, then turned with raised eyebrows as the doorbell rang.

“That is excellent timing.” Barton headed over to the door and took delivery of the two duffel bags. Off Stephen’s surprised look, he grinned and dumped the larger one beside the sitting room coffee table. Hefting the smaller one, he added, “Clothes. Shower?”

Stephen pointed. “There. I’ll join you in a minute.”

Barton shook his head. “Not a good idea. We’ll never make it out again before the water goes cold.”

Feeling a distinct jolt in his own cock at those words, Stephen couldn’t work out how to engage his brain again before Barton disappeared. Then he smiled to himself. Tonight was looking like being a very successful night.

Ten minutes later, he walked out of the bathroom himself and stopped dead, all his blood draining out of his head to pool quite a bit lower. Barton was lying on his back on Stephen’s bed, one hand behind his head, and one leg bent at the knee with its foot flat on the sheets. His other hand was engaged in pleasuring himself, sliding slowly and firmly up and down his cock, which was thickening and lengthening with each stroke. Stephen felt his own breath getting short. Dropping the towel, he grasped his own shaft and moved over to the bed, kneeling on the edge as Barton opened his eyes and smiled.

“Nice,” the archer said, reaching out to run his hand down Stephen’s side, making him twitch a little. “I always did like a whipcord body.”

Relaxing a little, Stephen looked his own fill in return. Stockier than his, Barton’s body was all power and controlled swiftness, his movements like lightning as he sat up, grasped Stephen’s shoulders and had him on his back before he could even gasp in a breath. Stephen wriggled into a comfortable position and smiled back.

“Sounds like we both get what we like,” he murmured, before Barton’s mouth closed over his and their earlier kiss was wiped from his memory. Damn. Power, control, strength and just the right amount of roughness took his mind, shook it out, rolled it up and popped into a nice neat little package at the back of his head, leaving his body in complete control. For the first time in ages, Stephen knew, without a doubt, that he had not one thing to be anxious about tonight. No second-guessing, no inhibitions, no worries.

“I want to fuck you,” Barton whispered harshly, nipping Stephen’s earlobe. “Is that okay?”

Barely able to form a coherent thought, let alone an entire sentence, Stephen frowned a little at Barton’s ability to speak so lucidly. “Uh-huh,” he grunted, wrapping his legs around Barton’s arse and squeezing their groins together, feeling vaguely vindicated when Barton’s eyes crossed a little. “Condoms. Lube. Side table. Top drawer.”

Barton chuckled. “You’re going to have to let me go a little so I can reach them.”

Stephen frowned again. “Don’t want to,” he pouted, exaggerating the expression a little, then sighing when Barton’s eyebrow went up and the other man replied, “No lube, no fuck.”

Releasing him with a scowl, Stephen slid up on the bed to rest on the pillow as Barton stretched over him to grope inside the drawer, making a victorious “hah” sound as he found what he was searching for and returned with condom and lube clutched in his hand.

Stephen sat up, slightly fuzzily pleased when Barton’s eyes homed in on his abs. It seemed that the SF team’s coaxing him into joining into some of their workouts had actually done some good after all. He stared straight into Barton’s eyes and pressed him flat onto the bed, simply giving an evil little grin as Barton’s eyebrows rose.

“Wait,” he said softly. “Let me.”

Barton’s gaze went feral. “Daaamn,” he drawled, relaxing back to watch Stephen.

Keeping his eyes on Barton’s, Stephen tore open the wrapper and slid the rolled up tube into his palm. Still staring straight at him, he placed the condom in position and rolled it slowly, so slowly down Barton’s now iron-hard shaft.

“Fuck,” Barton breathed, and Stephen could see the pulse hammering in his throat and feel the same throbbing in the cock he was now stroking softly.

“Your turn,” Stephen whispered against Barton’s lips, and the archer surged up and had him on his back in about a tenth of a second.

“I want to see your face as you come,” Barton said softly.

Stephen managed to nod, barely. “Okay. Okay. Yes.”

He then closed his eyes, the better to concentrate on the sensations as Barton’s corded fingers gradually and thoroughly opened him for entry. The feeling of first one, then two, and finally three thick fingers sliding in and out of him was so welcome, so needed right now. By the time he felt his hips moving gently in concert with the gliding fingers, he knew this was going to be an amazing ride. Barton seemed to know exactly what speed touched him, exactly what strength to use at any particular depth.

“Fucking hell,” Stephen muttered as Barton’s fingers withdrew. He opened his eyes and looked straight into Barton’s as the fingers were replaced by the blunt tip of Barton’s cock. Breathing out slowly, he relaxed as his hole was spread, wider than even the fingers had managed. He shuddered and almost came right then as the thick mushroom-shaped head grazed unhurriedly over his prostate. Clamping down desperately on the base of his cock to chop off his need to come, he bit his lip and Barton leaned forward to lick the reddened spot.

The archer then started to do things that Stephen swore to himself were a deliberate attempt to drive him completely mad. That place. The one right at the join of his neck and shoulder, the one that always hit him hard. How the fuck did the man know that licking and nibbling right - there - would make him almost convulse? How did he work out that stroking that other place, the one on his hip, would make him twitch? And that that twitch would drive Barton’s cock even deeper inside him?

Giving up and giving in, Stephen stopped even trying to think and let himself drift on a sea of sensation as Barton continued to pump slowly and deliberately into him, stroking across his prostate just hard enough to make him gasp, mapping every place on his body he could reach with tongue, teeth and fingers.

Stephen had no idea how long they moved together, lost in their joining, before he came, not suddenly or harshly, not convulsing or frenzied, just a gradual wave of complete and utter pleasure that started between his legs and swept outward to encompass his entire body. He shuddered and a deep, full-body groan was pulled from him as he buried his head in Barton’s shoulder and let himself go completely. He barely knew it when Barton shuddered himself and with curse and a couple of quick, hard thrusts, emptied his own balls into the encasing sheath.

“Damn,” Barton whispered. “You look amazing when you come.” He dropped his head to Stephen’s shoulder and sighed. “Thank you.”

Stephen managed to pull himself back up from the depths enough to respond. “And you. I haven’t felt that fantastic in years. Or maybe even never.” He grinned tiredly. “I’ll let you know when I manage to round up my mind. It seems to have disappeared on me.”

Chuckling, Barton kissed him as he pulled out slowly and fell onto his side, pulling Stephen with him. Stephen sat up and Barton gave him a confused look. “You have enough energy to get up?”

Stephen snorted. “No way.” He leaned over and grabbed the box of wipes from the drawer. “I come prepared.” Working gently, he removed the condom and tossed it, then cleaned them both cursorily.

Barton pulled him down again, and Stephen went happily. At least his overnight was actually going to be an overnight. He slept, with no unhappy dreams, for the first time in a long time.

\- - - - - - - - - -


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Avengers join in on an anomaly shout.

Chapter 5

The next morning, Stephen stretched luxuriously as the sound of the shower running brought him to a slow consciousness. Last night had been amazing. Barton's level of fitness might be higher even than the Special Forces requirements, and ‘Hawkeye’ was an ideal name for him; he certainly knew how to zero in on the perfect spots.

He rolled over and opened his eyes as the shower cut off, watching through the open door as Barton moved around the bathroom, getting dressed and rubbing his hair just dry enough to stand up in interesting spikes. The archer turned and grinned at him.

"I'll never look at Brits as fuddy-duddies again," Barton said, rolling his shoulders to loosen them.

Stephen chuckled and rested his chin on crossed forearms, giving Barton a seductive look. "I guess you've never heard of the Hellfire Club."

Barton's expression melted from hungry at Stephen's expression to confused at his words, then cleared. "Damn, I'd forgotten about that."

"You do know?"

"It was a thing," the archer shrugged. "Don't ask. I mean it. Please don't ask."

Stephen grinned and sat up, throwing the duvet off. "My turn in the shower. Check the fridge. We should have the makings for bacon butties."

"Bacon whats-its?"

Stephen decided that Barton somehow managed to look adorable when he was baffled. He really wanted to see that expression again, but it wouldn't be kind, so he explained. "Bacon sandwiches."

"I'm not even going to ask how those two words connect," Barton muttered as he headed for the kitchen.

Still amused, Stephen stepped into the shower and washed and shaved quickly, feeling a pleasant soreness in various parts of his body. He made a mental note to be more proactive on the subject of one-night stands in the future. This one had certainly worked out nicely. A cursory scrub of his hair to dry it, a quick donning of clothing, and he was ready.

He entered the kitchen to the enticing smell of frying bacon and lightly toasted bread.

"I didn't know if you use bread or toast, so I split the difference," Barton said, and Stephen walked up behind him and wrapped his arms around the archer's trim waist.

"Any way's fine," he replied happily, digging his chin into Barton's shoulder.

"Ouch," Barton said without heat. "You angling for some return pain?"

Stephen stepped back, feeling an unaccustomed jolt of desire at the thought. When had his body decided it might be interested in bloody pain? Unless it was just the thought of Barton that made it so. He cursed internally. The last thing he needed would be to get hung up on the Avenger. That would be a one way trip to pain, all right, but not the erotic kind.

Barton turned a slightly concerned look on him, so Stephen grinned. He didn't want to ruin the wonderful night with a few crossed wires on the morning after. "Never been much for pain, but I reckon there's always a first time."

Turning back to the cooker, Barton chuckled. "In my line of work, a skewed pain-pleasure response is a frequent side-effect."

"That doesn't sound enjoyable," Stephen muttered, moving to grab some plates. After that revelation, his interest at the possibilities now seemed a trifle abnormal.

"Nope. Just makes some situations a bit less nasty."

"Better you than me." Stephen shuddered. How many times had the archer been tortured to have developed such a kink?

Barton slid the bacon onto the platter. "It's not as bad as it sounds. You can learn to turn it on and off." He grinned at Stephen, winking as they sat at the kitchen table. "That's just a way of telling you that I won't mind if you bite me in the heat of the moment."

That idea sent another flash of fire through Stephen's body, and from Barton's suddenly intent expression, he knew his eyes had just gone wide and dilated. "You're trying to kill me," he managed to choke out.

Barton laughed in delight. "If I'd been trying that, I'd've waited until you had a mouthful of sandwich. Right now, I'm just feeling out the possibilities."

"You are trying to kill me," Stephen growled, adjusting his trousers over the hardness there that was rapidly becoming the centre of his attention. "I need some sustenance before we go a second round."

Barton's gaze flicked down for a moment and he smirked. "I'll hold you to that."

"I'll hold you, period," Stephen said, then blushed mightily at the implication, hoping desperately that he hadn't sounded either sappy or as if he was angling for anything permanent. He had a feeling that the archer wasn't the type to hang around, and he really didn't want to mess up what had been a truly amazing night.

Barton stared at him, gaping for a moment, then burst into laughter as Stephen bent down and smacked his forehead repeatedly against the table, his erection subsiding from sheer embarrassment.

"We'll pretend you didn't say that, okay?” the archer managed to sputter out. “I know I've come up with a few howlers in my time, but damn, you're good."

Stephen finally succumbed to his own amusement and started laughing, too, thankful that Barton hadn't taken his words badly. "I do have a tendency to speak before I think," he agreed, standing again and heading for the fridge to gather condiments. "Here, try some HP sauce on that."

The addition having been approved by his guest, Stephen returned to the table and assembled his own sandwich. He'd managed barely half a dozen bites before his mobile went off, the ringtone that of the ARC. Cursing under his breath, he answered with a growl. The information imparted made him cut it off without further complaint. "On our way. We'll meet you there."

He stood and grabbed the makings, assembling another butty quickly as Barton matched him, move for move.

"What's up?" the archer asked, suddenly all business.

"Stark wanted to know what we do? He's about to find out. You, too, if you want. An anomaly has opened in the Mendips, and we have to make sure nothing gets loose in the countryside."

Barton's eyes widened, then he grinned ferally. "Well, I don't know what the Mendips are when they're at home, but that sounds like it might be fun, anyway. Do we need to stop by the ARC for your stuff?"

Stephen shook his head absently, already mapping their route out in his mind. "No. They'll have equipment for us."

Nodding, suddenly serious, Barton headed for his bag. "I'll just grab a couple of things."

The archer pulled some items from his bag and Stephen had to take a deep breath to control the jolt of adrenalin he felt at the sight of Barton's collapsible recurve case and high-tech quiver. He never thought in his deepest dreams that he'd have a chance to actually watch Hawkeye shooting in person. But now wasn't the time to let his libido run free. Shaking his head to dispel the thoughts, he led the way out.

A few minutes later than he'd anticipated, they pulled in behind the Special Forces vehicles and jumped out.

"Took you long enough," Lyle muttered in Stephen's ear. "Have a little trouble climbing out of bed?"

Barton snorted, and Stephen fought a glare. He really liked Lyle, but sometimes he did want to strangle the lieutenant. This was one of those times.

"Nah, couldn't drag ourselves away from a great breakfast," Barton responded. "I'm a damned good cook."

Off Lyle's incredulous look, Stephen grinned. "He is. Bacon butties, first time, perfect."

Lyle opened his mouth to continue the verbal sparring, but snapped it shut when Becker strode up, frowning.

"Traffic was backed up on the motorway," Stephen said without apology, pulling his tranq rifle from the SF vehicle’s boot and checking it. "What's the situation?"

"Not great," Becker replied. "A flock of some kind of little creatures came through, they've scattered into the hills, and they're playing a bloody nasty game of hide and seek with us." He frowned. "Even Connor can't identify them, but he swears they're not carnivorous, so Cutter and Abby refuse to allow anything stronger than tranqs, and Finn's the only one who's been able to hit them with the darts. The damn darts fly too slowly and the creatures are too fucking fast, and shooting overhead or trying to steer them with bullets isn't working. The team has a lot of them generally located, but can't actually hit any of them. Blade swore he could take them out with his knives, but Abby gave him an industrial strength glare for the offer and he backed down."

Stephen nodded, controlling his desire to chuckle at the mental image of Abby handing Blade her best Paddington Bear hard stare. "Up to Finn and me, then," he said, then glanced at Barton's quiver. "Unless you have some light dosage tranquilizers in there?"

Barton grinned and upended his quiver. "What's the drug and dose?" he asked cheerfully.

After a quick radio consultation with Abby, Stephen gave him the information, and he nodded, pressing a few buttons on a hidden panel. "Done. Small dart ends, light dose." His grin widened as he looked around at the rapt expressions on everyone's faces. "Where's Stark? I'm surprised he's not suited up already."

The whine of Iron Man's repulsers answered him, and the metallic voice came over the radios they inserted into their ears as the red and gold suit landed beside Hawkeye. "We've been keeping an eye on them while we were waiting for you, Legolas. My repulsers are too strong - I really need to add a stun setting to them - and Big Green is afraid he'll just plain squish them by accident. And they don't herd worth a damn."

Stephen grinned. "Lead us to them," he said.

"Not that easy, blue-eyes. They're scattered through the hills, spending most of their time under any trees they can find." Somehow, the suit managed to give the impression of shrugging. "I can get you close, but after that it's taking them down one by one."

"Then let's get started," Barton stated, slipping his quiver over his shoulder and opening the recurve with a snap of his wrist whilst everyone stared. "Give us a ride?"

"You got it." Wrapping an arm around each man's waist, Iron Man took off, a trifle too quickly for Stephen's stomach. He knew he was turning a bit green when Stark's voice sounded in his ear. "If you're planning on puking, blue-eyes, turn your head the other way. It's hell getting shit like that out of the suit joints."

The annoyance Stephen felt at that statement was enough to allow him to regain control of his internal organs again, a result that he reckoned might have been the entire point of the comment when he heard Barton's chuckle.

A few moments later, they were standing beside Finn and Abby as the soldier brought them up to date on the situation. After a quick study of the map, Stephen suggested they place themselves at the four openings of the valley and work their way inward, dropping any creatures they came upon, with Iron Man above, making note of all the locations so they could pick them up after. The plan was approved by Becker over the radio, and Stark ferried them to their starting positions and hovered overhead as they took over from the SF men and started work.

Lyle was right. They were fast little fuckers, and even with Iron Man calling out exact locations of any heat signatures he noted, Stephen missed his first couple of shots. Once he managed to get the range and lead time down his shooting improved, but by the time Stark informed them that there were no more actively moving heat signatures in the area that matched the creatures they were looking for, he was almost out of darts. He'd never had to use his entire set before.

When they received the all-clear, the rest of the team moved in and bagged the little herbivores, carrying them back to the anomaly where nets were now set up in a circle around the rip in time to foil any potential returns. Abby gave each creature a quick check for any injuries, then injected the antidote and the soldiers took turns running them back through the anomaly, with Connor making copious notes on his laptop and taking as many photos of the little creatures as he could without getting too much in the way.

Stephen stood off to the side, watching, with Barton's solid presence a warmth beside him. His only regret was that he hadn't been free to watch the man at work. The few glimpses he'd taken had shown the archer's complete concentration on the job at hand, and he hadn't wanted to let his own side down by dividing his own attention.

"That was fun," the archer said softly, and Stephen grinned.

"It was, indeed." The two sharpshooters shared a look of satisfaction as Finn strode over to them.

"Hawkeye." The soldier held out a hand. "It was great to see you in action. Thanks for the help." He chuckled. "We really needed it on this one. I'm not sure these little buggers weren't worse than some of the toothy ones. Those, at least, we can take out if we have to."

Hawkeye shrugged as he returned the grip. "No problem. Glad to help. Though I do wish I'd had a chance to see a real live T rex."

Stephen shuddered. "No, you don't. Believe me. You don't."

He stopped speaking at a sudden roaring noise that echoed from the anomaly. Fuck. Speak of the devil. That sound, he knew. And it was something he'd had nightmares about too many times.

\- - - - - - - - - -


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The anomaly shout becomes even more dangerous than usual.

Chapter 6

"Okay, what the hell was that?" Stark's slightly stunned tone managed to come through the earphones clearly. "And do I really want to know?"

Connor's voice shook as he replied, "That, Mr Stark, was a T rex. We just have to hope that it's not going to come through the anomaly. Sometimes they don't."

"Only sometimes?" That was from Banner, who was looking a bit concerned. "And do you need me or should I disappear?"

Everyone looked at Becker, who was staring at the anomaly with his lips pursed. "First things first," the captain said. "Clear out, get the equipment and personnel under cover, and then set up in this order: civilians with the equipment and SF team covering. Iron Man, Hawkeye, Finn and Hart, ready as sharpshooter backup in a semicircle out of creature lunging range. Banner, you might be the best one to take it on. We'd like to coerce it back through rather than kill it, if possible. The carcass of something that size is just too damned difficult to dispose of."

The various groups nodded and dispersed quickly, to the accompaniment of the gradually increasing volume of roars. Stephen sighed. Damn it. Looked like the anomaly was manifesting its usual magnetic attraction for the creatures. He glanced to the side and saw Barton dialling a new setting on his quiver. The archer grinned at him.

"I think explosive arrows might be needed?" The words were a statement but the tone was a question.

Stephen nodded. "Yes. One of those bastards can take two full clips of NATO rounds through the body and then still bite you in half with ease."

A muffled curse came over their radios as Iron Man turned to watch the anomaly, and Barton switched in a nanosecond from amused to intent. "Right. We play no games with it. All or nothing."

Stephen matched him in businesslike tone. "Exactly. Give the Hulk a chance to force it back through, and if he can't, then Finn and I will distract it so you and Iron Man can take it out."

"Understood."

The four men conferred quickly on positioning, then scattered to take their places, leaving Banner facing the anomaly alone as the floating shards started to quiver.

"Incoming!" Finn yelled, and all hell broke loose.

The anomaly shivered again, then pulsed, and the huge predator erupted out of it at speed, moving so quickly that no one even had a chance to react. It burst through the nets and bore down on Banner in less than a second, and the massive head swung sideways, smashing into him before he had a chance to change, and throwing him twenty feet into the air and into the next field without even seeming to notice the blow. Stephen caught a glimpse of bright green out of the corner of his eye and felt the massive thud of the now-released Hulk hitting the ground a hundred meters away as he dove to the side himself to avoid the rushing Titan. It seemed that the rumours of Banner being unkillable because his alter-ego would protect him were true.

Stephen rolled, coming back to one knee with his elbow braced, and after a quick check for the locations of the others, started firing short bursts at the predator, hoping to keep it distracted long enough for Banner to get back to them again. The Hulk was moving quickly, but time seemed to slow to a crawl as Finn joined in, shooting from the side angle, and Iron Man swooped low, firing repulser blasts at the creature's head.

As usual, the bullets seemed to have almost no effect on the massive body, and Iron Man's repulsers only served to anger the T rex, to the point where it swung its tail around, more rapidly even than the red and gold suit could dodge in the air, and Iron Man followed Banner base over tip into the next field, with Stark's squawked "Son of a bitch!" echoing through their headsets.

"Watch the tail, damn it!" Becker yelled, a fraction of a second too late as he ran to back up Finn.

Hawkeye's calm tone was in direct contrast to Stark's continued exclamations, overriding the inventor’s verbal excitability with ease. "Explosive arrow loaded, holding fire. Hulk incoming."

The Hulk thundered into the side of the T rex without hesitation. Though only half the size of the huge predator, Hulk easily matched it in cantankerousness. The boulder-sized fists slammed over and over again into the ribcage, neck and skull of the T rex, and it backed off, shaking its head and roaring in mingled pain and fury. It lunged at the Hulk, grabbing a tree-trunk forearm in its scimitar teeth and biting down hard, making the giant green Avenger roar again. Stephen plugged his ears at the volume as the Hulk ripped his arm free and spun, slamming the T rex across the lower jaw. The predator retreated, shaking its head, finally realising it was outclassed, but it was pointing the wrong direction and it moved lateral to the anomaly instead of toward it.

"Hold position," Hawkeye ordered calmly, and Stephen finally had a chance to watch him as the archer stood, smoothly pulled back on the bowstring, held for a fraction of a second, and released without moving more than the tips of his fingers. The explosive arrow flew true, and buried its point in front of and just to the side of where the T rex was heading, as if the archer somehow knew exactly where it was going to be in two seconds time. At the perfect moment there was a slight twitch of the thumb wrapped loosely around his bow, and the arrowhead exploded. The T rex jerked away, its head now pointing directly at the anomaly, and it lumbered back through the shimmering time-rip, roaring its displeasure all the way.

Stephen had to take a few deep breaths and think hard about a few very slimy and unpleasant things to control the sudden hard-on that was making his trousers damned uncomfortable. He stood up and looked around, seeing everyone else also move slowly from cover as they came down from their excitement high.

Hulk pounded both fists against the ground and bellowed in triumph before glaring around at everyone and leaping into the next field, coming to rest behind a small grove of trees. Iron Man followed, still bitching, barely having had time to make it back into the air after his impromptu tumble courtesy of the T rex’s caudal appendage.

"Stark, enough," Becker ordered. "Sound off, everyone okay?"

The chorus of agreement washed the adrenalin from the battle out of Stephen's body and he sighed. Hawkeye, now just Barton again, moved up beside him and cut his eyes down to Stephen's crotch for a fraction of a second. "You, too, huh?" he asked with a grin.

Stephen chuckled tiredly. "Every damned time," he replied, turning to smile back at the archer. "I love watching you shoot, by the way, and I don't mean that salaciously - at least this time, anyway."

Barton's shout of laughter caught everyone's attention, but it didn't last long as Banner and Stark walked up, Stark's suit clanking with each step, and Banner, now dressed in the emergency outfit supplied by his friend, yawning tiredly.

"Thank you, gentlemen," Becker said. "T rex is difficult to deal with without incurring multiple casualties. This was the quickest and least exasperating repatriation we've ever managed."

Iron Man's mask slid up, and he grinned happily. "Glad to help. Really. That was fun." Then, in what Stephen took to be a perfectly normal segue based on the blasé reactions from Banner and Barton, Stark spun around to face Connor. "So, that locking device thingie you've been working on. I suppose you've taken account of the electromagnetic fluctuations in the anomaly’s pulsation polarity?"

Connor stood staring for a second, then gathered his thoughts with a visible effort. "Um, yes, actually, I've been counting on reversing the polarity whenever the fluctuations reach a level above .005."

"And they're off," Barton whispered, quite audibly, and everyone laughed, the tension of the last few minutes finally draining away completely as Connor and Stark put their heads together, talking in a language that, outside the two of them, only Banner seemed to understand.

Everyone gathered their equipment and stowed it, working in teams, and Stephen realised that Barton was sticking like glue to his side. He smiled at the archer, and Barton grinned back.

"What's the procedure?" Barton asked him.

Stephen sighed. "Back to the ARC and write out reports."

Shuddering visibly, Barton replied, "Ugh. I suppose your boss is going to want us to add our two cents?"

"'Fraid so," Stephen said quietly. "Shouldn't take too long, though, then if you guys can stay, I could show you around a bit?" Then he caught a random thought as it flashed through his mind. "But you probably know the area as well as I do."

Barton shrugged. "I know it, yeah. But I'd still like to spend the day with you. Doesn't matter to me what we do."

Stephen smiled. That sounded un-missable.

Thanks to the assistance of Tony Stark and JARVIS, their reports only took a quarter the length of time they normally did, leaving Stephen and Barton free for the afternoon to do some sightseeing. Stark and Banner headed back to the lab with Cutter to work on the anomaly matrix, and Connor made a beeline for his anomaly locking device, looking as if he'd been given the best Christmas present ever after his discussion with Stark on the trip back. Stephen grinned. He reckoned that Abby was going to be whistling for company this evening. She'd been outclassed by a bunch of circuits and chips. Oh well, at least she still had her hair dryer in one piece this time.

Later that afternoon, Stephen reckoned he'd definitely got the better end of the deal. The area wasn't new to Barton, and he'd steered them to a couple of hole in the wall restaurants for first a late lunch before their wanderings, and then an early dinner afterward, that between the two served the best food Stephen had ever tasted - and according to the menu, the second one of them even had take-out. He made a mental note. Considering the ARC team's lifestyle, take-out could almost be considered a primary food group.

Having spent most of the morning running around the woods and most of the afternoon walking around the city, Stephen was pleasantly tired as they lingered over coffee. He was about to suggest that they finish with a last evening at his place when his mobile went off again.

Cursing as he grabbed it to silence the ring, he noted that Barton's expression had gone intent again. The man obviously remembered that particular ringtone.

"Problem?" Stephen didn't bother with amenities this time, either. He reckoned that at least using his words was better than his growl of the morning. "On our way," he sighed, then shrugged his shoulders at Barton.

"No emergency," he half-grumbled. "They think they've fixed the matrix, and they want us to test it."

Barton's eyebrows made a break for his hairline. "And they don't have enough sharpshooters there?" he asked sarcastically, harking back to Ditzy's snark of last night.

Stephen grinned, feeling a bit better since his annoyance was shared. "They've tried a few others, and had no reaction. Now, they want the same people as they had yesterday to make sure it's not just us who react."

"Huh. Makes sense, I suppose," Barton agreed, reluctance obvious in his tone. "Oh, well, no rest for the wicked."

When Stephen reached for his wallet, Barton stopped him. "I got this. We have credit cards provided by Stark Industries." At Stephen's dropped jaw, he added, "And considering your boss's current mood, I wouldn't guarantee an expense item being approved."

Stephen laughed. Barton was right on that count. It was hard enough getting Lester to approve any expense items, let alone meals. As far as the civil servant was concerned, they had to eat in any case, and there was no reason for them to charge him for something they did with or without the ARC.

\- - - - - - - - - -


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The anomaly matrix is ready to be tested again.

Chapter 7

They were still chuckling over Lester's parsimonious ways when they arrived back in the lab to find Finn there as well, looking a bit sulky. Stephen reckoned that it was because he'd been called back in twice in a row now. He checked his watch. Yep. Finn would have been just checking out when Stephen received the call-in. And to top it all off, it seemed he’d been made to wait for the two of them to arrive before starting whatever tests Cutter and Co had planned.

"Oh, good, you're here." Cutter stood up from the desk behind the matrix and gestured them closer. "Thanks for coming back in, all of you. It's greatly appreciated."

Finn looked only a little mollified at that, and Stephen wondered fleetingly what plans the soldier had needed to change. Knowing Finn, those plans had involved someone female with blonde hair, a large bra size and the ability to consume a considerable quantity of liquor without falling over.

"Not a problem," Barton replied. "Stark's credit card took a hit, but it's all good."

Stark stared at him for a second, then grinned. "You actually used it? Thanks. I mean it. That's great!"

Barton chuckled. "Yeah, Tony, I used it. I've used it before. Just not every day."

Stark waved that away. "Quibbles. Nothing but quibbles. Anyway, we think we've fixed the matrix, and we wanted to test it with the same people as last time. In the same order. So: Barton, Hart, then Finn, right?"

"Right. Let's get this done." Barton strode over to the matrix and stopped, to stand in what Stephen reckoned was the exact position he'd been in yesterday, down to the millimetre. His eyes moved slowly over the lines and connections, and Stephen again thought the sequence was exact. Damn, the man was good. He seemed to have complete and total concentration on whatever he was doing. Stephen shivered, remembering last night and wondering if he might luck into that same level of concentration being applied to him again tonight.

Barton's expression went slack for a second, and Stephen twitched toward him, hoping he wasn't going to pass out, but the archer just seemed to be surprised. He repeated his visual scan, then shrugged and stepped back.

"Nothing," Barton said, shaking his head.

Stephen stepped up and went through his own routine, thinking he wasn't going to be able to repeat yesterday's exact sequence, but once he was looking at the twists and turns, his eyes just seemed to automatically follow the same lines as last time. However, once he reached the area that had given him trouble yesterday, there was something just a little different, and he skated through without a problem.

"Something changed," he said, nodding and moving back. "There's no problem for me, either."

Finn took a deep breath and took position, repeating what Barton and Stephen had done, with the same result: nothing. He grinned and stepped back as well, looking over at Becker. "All okay, here. Am I done?"

The captain glanced at Cutter, and at the professor's agreement, nodded. "Go on, Finn. Have fun this evening, see you tomorrow."

"Thanks, boss." The words were flung over the young soldier's shoulder as he fairly squirted from the room.

Barton and Stephen traded grins, and Stephen turned to his friend. "So, Cutter, what was it?" He was a little nervous about possibly opening verbal floodgates, as he hadn't yet managed to work out exactly how the matrix functioned, but he needn't have worried. The explanation was simple.

Cutter smiled. "We have JARVIS to thank for it," he said simply, and Stark made quick objection.

"Hey, you can thank JARVIS, and me, too, I invented him!"

Stephen braced himself for an explosion, but it seemed that Cutter had Stark's measure.

The professor merely chuckled. "And thank you Tony Stark for inventing the artificial intelligence that was the one to actually manage to find our problem."

Preening, Stark subsided. Stephen watched him for a moment, wondering if Stark had truly missed Cutter’s hidden slam, and saw the flash of humour in the dark eyes as they crossed his. So Stark was just amusing himself with his comments. Cutter must have worked it out whilst they were consulting, and decided that it was more entertaining to simply play along.

Barton sighed ostentatiously. "And what was it that JARVIS, and by virtue of his awesome inventiveness, Stark, worked out?"

"There was one anomaly that was out of place. We'd put it in, but we'd discounted an earlier possibility, and that mis-timing was throwing out the balance. You men, with your specific visual acuity, were affected by it, when those of us without it weren't bothered."

"That simple?" Stephen was floored. As was Barton, if the expression on his face was any indication when his eyes met Stephen's.

"Yes. Very simple." Cutter sighed. "But I'm afraid that we're going to have a slight problem with Connor for a bit. He’s going to be crowing. A lot. It seems that our discounting of an earlier sighting of the Loch Ness monster - in the sixth century - was incorrect. Sarah and I thought it was apocryphal, that the earliest possible anomaly in that area was in 1933. He was sure that it should have been included."

Stephen laughed at the rather confused expressions on the faces of the Avengers. "Connor never met a conspiracy theory he didn't like," he explained, and their faces cleared, Stark's actually transforming to complete approval.

"I knew the kid was brilliant," he replied happily. "I'm liable to try to steal him, too."

Cutter snorted. "Good luck with that," he growled. "He's fine where he is."

Stark subsided, grinning. Stephen wondered what it would be like to spend so much time with someone who lived to constantly push everyone’s buttons. He reckoned he'd find it exhausting within a week.

xXx

"Is Stark always like that?" Stephen asked as they entered his flat, more for something to say than because he actually had any interest in the subject.

Barton shrugged and answered in the same manner. "Pretty much. He's got a good heart, and he cares, he just doesn't quite know how to show it without being heavy handed. All or nothing, that's Tony." The archer wandered over to the window to look out at the view of the neighbouring buildings.

Stephen moved silently up behind him with a grin, knowing that, sound of footsteps or not, Barton would know exactly where he was, most likely even to the centimetre. Wrapping his arms around the other man, he resisted the temptation to dig his chin into the shoulder in front of him again, their conversation of the morning still echoing rather uncomfortably in his head.

"So, any ideas for the evening?" Stephen asked with a grin.

Barton twisted like an athletic eel and had him wrapped up in arms like steel hawsers before he knew what was happening. "Hmm. I don't know. There's dinner, or drinks, or an old fashioned walk in the park, or a show, or. . ."

Coming to the conclusion that there was probably only one way to shut Barton up when he was in this kind of mood, Stephen captured the soft lips as they were between words and licked the tongue that was tempting him.

Barton's sentence degenerated from slightly long winded coherence into a simple "mmm" sound that went straight to Stephen's groin.

"I vote for none of the above," Stephen whispered after breaking the kiss.

"Bed?" Barton asked, and Stephen nodded.

"Bed."

They laughed together and stepped side by side toward the bedroom, shedding clothing piece by piece between kisses, in a trail that even an inexperienced tracker would have been able to follow in a pouring rainstorm on a moonless night.

\- - - - - - - - - -


	8. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More sexy times.

Chapter 8

Dropping onto the bed in a naked sprawl, Stephen pulled Barton onto him, one hand gripping the man's arse to hold him close, the other cradling the back of his head as if made to rest there. Aligning their cocks, he moved his hips slowly in a circle and grinned against Barton's mouth as Barton went limp in his grip, whispering curses in a tone that transformed them into benedictions.

Flipping them onto their sides, Stephen pulled Barton's upper leg to rest over his hip. "I think something was mentioned this morning about it being my turn next time?" He made his tone into as deep a growl as he could, and was gratified to feel Barton shiver against him in reaction.

"Fuck," the archer whispered. "Whatever you want, you got." He grinned at Stephen, and leaned close to whisper in his ear. "Your chest vibrates like a big cat purring when you do that."

Stephen shivered in turn as the warm breath ghosted over his cheek. Turning his head, he captured those wicked lips in a soft kiss that rapidly turned hard and dirty. Rolling Barton onto his back, Stephen released Barton's mouth and attacked his neck, biting softly and pulling what sounded suspiciously like a whimper from the reddened lips. He grinned against the soft skin that covered hard cords of muscle and bit down again. This time the whimper was even louder, and Barton's hips started their own movements.

"Fuck, they need to hire you for SHIELD's interrogation division," Barton grated out, and Stephen pulled away with a jerk and stared at him in shock, then collapsed into laughter.

Barton frowned for a second, then started chuckling himself as Stephen gasped out, "Oh, right, I can see that. The poor bastards would think I'm a sodding vampire and they'd start talking right away."

"Never mind," Barton stated. "I retract the suggestion. Now, back to work."

Stephen nibbled obediently at Barton's earlobe, whispering, "Pushy bottom."

Barton simply gave a lazy grin and cocked his head farther so Stephen had a better angle to work. "Yup, that's me."

Deciding that the only way to stop Barton from ordering him around was to make sure he wasn't capable of putting a coherent sentence together, Stephen obeyed the order and got to work. Not that he exactly considered it to be "work" as such. More like play. Fun, tasty play. Barton's skin somehow had a spicy undertone to it, a taste that he was finding to be almost addictive. He chased the flavour across Barton's neck and down his chest to his right nipple, and bit down softly, rolling the rapidly hardening nub between his teeth and sucking.

Barton scrunched his eyes shut and started whispering, "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

Stephen grinned internally and bit down a little harder. Barton's whisper turned into a definite whimper. Feeling that his current job was complete, Stephen let go of the now-reddened slip of flesh and trailed his tongue across the hard abs and down the thin trail of darker hair to the already erect cock that was his target.

Taking the smooth head into his mouth, he slid slowly down the shaft, tracing the prominent vein on the bottom with the tip of his tongue. At first, Barton’s sudden silence confused him, but a concerned glance at his face told Stephen that he’d simply become incapable of making a sound, panting silently, mouth open and eyes squeezed shut. At that point, Stephen reckoned that the only way to not cut short the evening’s fun would be to stop, right now.

He pulled off and nibbled his way back up to Barton’s neck, finishing with a quick lick across the slack mouth that was still hanging invitingly open. Barton’s eyes opened to stare blearily at him, and Stephen was caught by the fascinating mix of colours in the irises. Brown and grey bands intermixed with gold and green flecks made a pattern like a kaleidoscope across the midnight blue background. He came close to getting lost tracing the movement of the colours as Barton’s pupils dilated.

Pulling back with a blink, he whispered, “Roll over,” and Barton tensed, eyes narrowing for a second before he gave a slightly twisted grin and obeyed.

Stephen cursed himself. Of course an agent in a group like SHIELD would be leery of turning his back on a stranger. He was damned lucky that the man hadn’t walked out on him. Then he realised what a gift he was being handed: trust. Total and absolute trust from someone who should know better. He blinked away a slight extra moisture from his eyes and dropped a kiss on the shoulder under his mouth, whispering, “Thank you.”

Barton laughed quietly, and wriggled his arse. “Get on with it, Hart,” he ordered.

“Pushy bottom,” Stephen chuckled, and Barton replied, “Yup.”

Stephen coated his fingers with lube and started circling the puckered hole slowly. When Barton pushed back against him impatiently, he simultaneously slid two fingers in and bit down on the man’s muscular shoulder. Barton gave a rather unmanly yelp of surprise, then collapsed into laughter along with Stephen, who kept up the movement of his fingers without pause.

“Son of a bitch.” Barton gathered himself and stared over his shoulder at Stephen, who grinned back.

“Yes, you were saying?” Stephen asked innocently.

“Never mind,” was the archer’s reply as he relaxed back onto the sheets. “Carry on.”

Instead, Stephen removed his fingers, and Barton whined. “Aw, fuck.”

Stephen rapidly donned a condom and placed his already aching cock against the still slightly tight hole and pressed in.

Barton’s complaints turned into a groan of need. “Now, yes.”

Slowing down in a manner designed exclusively to torture the man under him, Stephen held his breath and held onto his control with every fibre as he slid slowly into the tight heat until he was fully encased. At that point he had to stop completely and take a few slow deep breaths to stop himself from coming.

Barton started whinging again. “For fuck’s sake, get on with it.” He sounded like he was about to come himself - there was the same slight growl in his voice that he’d exhibited last night.

“Patience,” Stephen murmured. “I want this to last.” But he did start moving again, picking up the pace a fraction, just enough to restart the build-up toward climax again without tipping over the edge too soon.

Barton spread his legs a little and started moving along with Stephen’s thrusts, finding the matching rhythm and lifting up to meet him, the muscles in his back and glutes flexing and bunching in a way that was playing havoc with Stephen’s self control. When he came close to the point of no return, he changed angles with every thrust until Barton cried out under him. Having found the right spot, Stephen hammered it hard until Barton shouted his name and convulsed, every muscle tightening. His arse clamped down on Stephen’s cock and Stephen groaned brokenly as his climax rolled over him in a massive wave that pulled him under, drowning in sensation.

No idea how long later, Stephen’s mind crawled back into his brain and metaphorically sat up and wiped its brow, still gibbering slightly at him. “Fucking hell,” he managed to whisper, his throat feeling raw.

“Umph-m,” was the only reply from the man still lying under him.

Stephen smiled shakily and pulled out gently, also pulling a muttered curse from Barton’s mouth.

“You okay?” Stephen asked him, slightly concerned, as he unsteadily disposed of the condom and started to give them both a quick wipe-down .

“Fucking amazing,” Barton replied, rolling over and sounding wrecked. “But done for the night. Need sleep. Right now.”

He closed his eyes and as far as Stephen could tell, was asleep within two breaths. Feeling pretty much the same way, Stephen dropped the flannel haphazardly beside the bed and, pillowing his head on Barton’s solid shoulder, dropped off the edge into sleep himself.

xXx

Connor and Abby, along with Banner and Stark, were already waiting at the airport when Stephen and Barton arrived the next morning. Stark and Connor were talking a mile a minute, as usual, and Abby and Banner were standing back with comically identical indulgent looks on their faces.

Abby turned to greet them, but Stark simply flapped a hand, still concentrating on the data scrolling across Connor's laptop screen. She and Banner walked across to them, grinning.

"I think Connor's ready to elope with Stark," Abby chortled. "It's a match made in heaven for both of them, I think."

Stephen glanced at Banner, wondering if the physicist was bothered by Stark's obsession with the young genius, but found only a slightly relieved and very amused expression on the man's face. Perhaps it was a vacation for him to not be the only one to be able to even halfway keep up with Tony Stark's quicksilver mind.

That worry relieved, Stephen was able to turn back to Barton, wondering what the next step should be. He didn't have much practise with morning-after interactions, and really didn't want to blow the memory of these last couple of days - and nights. Barton was looking at him with his own indulgent expression. Damn the man's hawk eyes. Stephen closed his eyes and sighed, doing his best to handle the embarrassment of being seen as needy.

A warm hand slid up his arm to his shoulder, and a warm breath in his ear put him at ease.

"If you're ever in New York, look me up," Barton whispered, possibly more loudly than he'd planned on, since Connor and Stark abruptly stopped speaking to each other and turned to stare at him, unconscious mirror images of shock on their faces.

Stephen flushed, uncomfortable with the concentrated attention of others, as always, but Barton simply grinned at him, his expression daring Stephen to react, whether badly or well, Stephen didn't know. Eyes narrow, he stared at Barton for a second, weighing the options, then decided that he might as well go for broke.

Leaning forward, he pressed his lips to Barton's, feeling the approval as Barton's mouth opened under his and a warm tongue snaked out to tangle with his. The kiss deepened rapidly, and Stephen was quite breathless by the time they separated.

Barton's kaleidoscope-coloured eyes were twinkling as he pulled back and licked his lips slowly enough to make Stephen's trousers suddenly feel slightly tight as his eyes followed the motion.

"Brace yourself," Barton whispered.

The words were a bare thread of sound and Stephen felt his eyes widen. Damn the man. His volume on the prior words had been bloody well deliberate. Glaring daggers for a second, he deliberately relaxed his shoulders and pasted a smile on his face as he turned to face the others.

Abby was grinning and giving him a thumbs-up from behind Connor, who was looking a bit like a fish out of water, mouth opening and closing with no sound being emitted. Banner had a tiny grin on his face, eyes glittering with amusement as he stared at Barton. His expression said clearly “that’s set the cat among the pigeons”. But it was Stark who was expressing the most shock. His face was blank, eyes round and jaw dropped. He looked back and forth, back and forth, between Stephen and Barton, over and over. Finally something seemed to click in his brain and he opened his mouth with an anticipatory grin.

Squeezing Stephen's shoulder, Barton forestalled him. "Not a word, Stark. Not one fucking word or you'll regret it for a very long time."

Stark's mouth snapped shut on what he'd been about to say, and Barton smiled at Stephen again. "I meant what I said," he said quietly.

Nodding, Stephen reached out to touch Barton's shoulder in return. "I know. And the same goes for me."

"It's a date." One last quick peck, and Barton nodded at him as he continued speaking without even a glance over his shoulder at the inventor, "Stark, just don't." Stark's mouth snapped shut again, but not for long.

Stephen chuckled as Barton turned away to follow Banner, who had already ambled halfway up the steps of the jet, with Stark on his heels once again talking at speed. “What, you and blue-eyes? When did that happen? Why didn’t you say anything? Do you want him? I could hire him if you want me to, you know. Seriously. He’d be useful!”

Barton’s next words made Abby bury her head into Connor’s shoulder to muffle her guffaws.

“Shut up, Stark. I mean it. One more word and you’ll get an arrow in your ass.”

The response from Stark came faintly from inside the jet as the door closed. “Well, that’s not kind.”

Stephen grinned and headed back to the Hilux with Abby and Connor beside him, still giggling. Meeting the Avengers had certainly turned out to be an interesting experience . . .

End


End file.
